Chapter 19

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

DANI

It’s Wednesday afternoon and I’m at Tyler’s T-Ball practice. Sitting on these wooden bleachers is a spiritual experience. I’m praying they don’t collapse or give me a splinter requiring surgical removal. I should have learned from last week, but I stood most of the time, excited to watch Tyler. Mental note to get a cushion.

Tyler’s coach is Mr. Mayhew, a sweet grandfather who has coached kids for years. He coached his son, Franklin, who was drafted and played in the minors for a few years. Franklin’s an insurance agent now in Georgia with a wife and two kids. Mr. Mayhew told me some kids play for fun, some learn about teamwork and discipline, and some get to live the dream, at least for a little while. The rare few make it to the show, as he called it.

When Luis came to my class, I taught the students how to use their new computers and the Internet for research. We learned about professional baseball players and their journey to the big leagues. Between that lesson and hearing Franklin’s story, I’m more in awe of the guys on the Reapers. They beat the odds and made it to the highest level of a sport that hundreds of thousands of kids strive to reach. I know they’re talented, but the years of dedication and practice are humbling.

I watch the kids while poor Mr. Mayhew tries to wrangle them all into one place. It’s like herding cats. One boy suddenly falls down while something in the sky captures the attention of two others. The kids throw the balls back and forth, more chasing than catching. These kids don’t know the rules or even care about them. They’re having fun and not sitting in front of a video screen. It makes my heart smile.

My phone buzzes, and I giggle at the picture in my text. Alexander and I have become texting buddies, sending pictures throughout our day. I love teasing him with a picture and a few words. He acts like he doesn’t enjoy the playful teasing, but after the Christmas paper, I think there’s a fun side under the gruff and broody armor he wears for the world, and I’m here to help him show it.

His latest text is a view of the Reaper’s field from an executive’s office, the faint reflection of a certain General Manager in the glass. Seems a little reminiscent of another picture, and I giggle. I snap a quick picture of my view as a reply.

It’s nice, but my view is far more superior. I concede that your seating is better.

AD

How’s the little leaguer doing?

Focused. Well, for him, that is. Think he’s ready for the Reapers?

Are you?

Probably not. It’s a big step up from where I am now.

Don’t worry. I’ve got you, sunshine .

I smile at the nickname. I know he thinks I’m always sunny, but I experience the occasional eclipse every now and then.

Practice is almost over when the bleachers groan because someone is brave enough to climb on them. I’m shocked to find Alexander moving up the few rows to join me. The entire structure wobbles under his weight as he sets a large brown paper bag in front of me.

“Hi, sunshine. Hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this.”

I’m stunned into silence. How did he know where I was? Why is he here? I snap my mouth closed so I don’t catch flies.

“I’m not stalking, I promise.” His tone conveys he’s a little worried about my reaction, but his smirk says he’s hoping I won’t be mad.

I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“I reverse imaged the picture in Google, and it gave me an address.” He responds to my unasked questions.

I finally find my voice. “That is the literal definition of stalking.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, maybe. But do stalkers come bearing gifts?”

“Some do, yes.” I give a visible shudder.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just take this and go.” He picks up the bag and begins to walk away, the bleachers swaying with his movement.

“Stop! If you move, it could cause the entire bleacher structure to fall. You should stay in the name of structural integrity.” He came all this way, and I’d hate for him to leave. Besides, it was curiosity that killed the proverbial cat.

“You want me to stay for structural integrity?” At this point, he probably thinks I’m insane.

“Yep. Sit.” I bite my bottom lip to stop my growing grin. My pulse quickens at his nearness, and I do my best to keep my wits about me .

He reaches into his bag and pulls out two Reaper seat cushions. He places one next to me and gestures for me to stand up.

“Can’t stand up, structural integrity.” I work hard contain my smile. This banter is silly and makes me laugh at him trying to keep up. It’s obvious he’s not used to being silly.

His eyes scan me, looking for a solution. He moves behind me, the bleachers sway, and I grip the wooden slat. Before I know it, his hands are at my waist, and he picks me up like I weigh nothing and places me on the cushion. He sits down next to me.

If he weren’t the only man here, the pressed shirt, dark dress pants, and expensive shoes would make him stand out in our little crowd. I’m suddenly self-conscious of my ripped jeans, t-shirt, and flip-flops and glance down to make sure my shirt isn’t stained.

“You always just take charge and make things happen?” I ponder. I’m a little flustered that I already lost this battle.

“Usually. I’m a busy man, so it’s the best way to get things done.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Several reasons, actually.”

I cock my head to the side, waiting for the reasons. The bleachers sway again as several of the other moms move a little closer to us. Curious minds want to know.

“First, I wanted to bring you this cushion because your comfort is my priority.” His deep baritone voice is smooth, serious, and sexy.

“Um, hm.” I do my best not to roll my eyes. I’m also trying to keep my smile at bay because his stalking should not be rewarded. “And?”

“Second, it’s never too early to start scouting prospects, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t start in my own backyard.”

“Isn’t your backyard Reaper Stadium?”

“A metaphorical backyard, if you will.” He clears his throat as if about to make his closing argument. “Third, I brought snacks for t he team. Athletes burn a lot of extra calories, and they need to replenish.” He rattles the large bag that once housed the cushions. I peek over the edge to look in the bag to find oranges, small Gatorades, and cheese crackers.

“And finally, Ms. Frankin, I wasn’t sure if you had dinner plans, but if not, I’d like to take you and Tyler out after practice so I can hear about baseball from the superstar himself. That is, if you’re interested.”

Am I interested? Of course, I’m interested. However, I protect Tyler by vetting the people I allow close to him. It’s probably why I haven’t dated much over the years. I don’t want him to get attached and feel the pain of losing someone he may care about. At least not this young. I broke that rule with Alexander when we went to the pet store. Tyler has already formed an attachment to Matt, too. I twist my lips while I decide how to respond.

“I’m curious, Mr. Decker. Do you have much experience with children?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever gone to a kid-friendly restaurant?”

He seems to give genuine consideration to my question. I can practically see the gears turning as he contemplates how to answer. “Of course.”

I quirk my eyebrow. “I mean, lately?”

He looks at me with a gaze that could melt the polar ice caps. His ocean-blue eyes look deep into mine, attempting to unearth my darkest secrets.

“Dani, tell me what’s out of bounds.” He lowers his voice, causing me to lean in. “Is it Tyler? I understand if you need to protect him. But I want to assure you, hurting him or hurting you is the last thing I ever want to do.” He pauses to make sure I’m listening. His gaze deepens, as if he wants me to believe his words are intentional and authentic. One thing I’ve discovered about Alexander is that he is always intentional.

He continues. “I want to make sure you two are never hurt again. But if you need me to stay away from Tyler, I will. But make no mist ake. I’m interested in getting to know you, Dani Franklin. And I know he’s a part of you. And I want to know all of you. Do you understand?”

I’m stunned. All I can do is nod.

“So, tell me the boundaries. I respect the hell out of you, sunshine, and I won’t cross them. You’re in charge. I’ll do anything you tell me.”

His eyes never leave mine.

“Mom, Mom, did you see me catch that pop-up?” Tyler is running toward the fence that divides us from the field. His voice and the title Mom break the spell I’m under. Tyler is my number one, always.

I turn my head to give him my full attention, but sitting this close to Alexander, I’m not sure my full attention will be available to anyone again. “Hey, tiger, you’re doing amazing. Are you having fun?”

His fingers wrap around the chain link, looking up at me, his eyes shaded by the bill of his hat. “Mom, this is work. If I’m gonna be like Matt, I’ve gotta work hard.”

Alexander’s face breaks into a grin. He always looks so severe when I see him, but when he smiles, a dimple pops, and he goes from a ten to a fifteen. I’m a sucker for dimples. And apparently, this incredibly sexy man sitting next to me.

“Tyler, I’m sure Matt would tell you it’s work, but it’s also fun. And fun comes first. If you don’t enjoy playing, then don’t do it.” Alexander’s deep voice carries across the field, and several kids look our way.

Tyler processes who said those wise words, his mouth dropping open as he straightens a bit before responding.

“I’m having fun. Coach said we have to work to get better, and I want to be the best so I can play with Matt when I grow up.”

I love the way he dreams with his entire heart. I don’t know the retirement age of baseball players, but I’m not sure Matt will be playing when Tyler is old enough to play. The thought of him growing up s o fast has me clutching my chest, trying to keep my emotions in check.

“Your coach is right. Work means listening to your coach. You can learn a lot from him. But I bet Matt will tell you his favorite games were when he wasn’t much older than you. Mine were. So have fun, okay?”

Tyler nods slowly, like he’s processing every word. “You played baseball?”

“Yup.” Alexander’s attention is on Tyler, but he glances my way. What was that about? Is he checking to see my reaction to this conversation?

“Tiger, why don’t you get your stuff? We’re going to dinner with Xander. Maybe he can tell us more about baseball?” I don’t have to tell Tyler twice. He takes off like a shot, running faster than he has all afternoon. I smile at his enthusiasm and energy.

I stand, and the bleachers sway again as several of us leave to gather our kids. Alexander pops up and reaches out to hold me steady. When he’s this close, I don’t think I’ll ever be steady again.